Many era before the Orks came into being is where this chronicle shall begin. In a lightless world conquered by the shadows and dark feudal lords—one came to great power. As many of you may know, the villainous Lord Mondain set out on a campaign for complete control. He quested tirelessly for the Gem of Immortality. With the Gem in his grasp, Mondain ruled with a cold heart and steel fist. He coveted this Gem—for it was the source of his unchallengeable power. Eventually, his tyranny provoked an unknown hero to come forth—shattering the Gem of Immortality. The Gem shattered into thousands of shards—each containing a perfect image of the world of Sosaria. With the influence of Mondain long in the past, light trickled into the lands. Fauna flourished. The oceans rose and filled with life. Grasses covered emerald green knolls for miles. Day by day, creatures emerged from the thickets and began to populate the world of Sosaria. Unbeknownst to their inhabitants, each shard of Sosaria was steadily drifting outwards in an ever-enlarging sphere towards the universe’s edge. Again, as many of you may know, the story of how the Ork came into being is blurry and shrouded with mystery. What is known about the Orkish genealogy is that they were a race of savage, unintelligent brutes. For centuries, the Orks roamed the lands as nomadic family-tribes. No more than about thirty Orks ever traveled together. They populated the land so sparsely that usually Orks never came into contact with other tribes. The Orkish tribes dwelling on the plains were hunted to extinction—as they had no place to hide, and the human-folk enjoyed the flatlands for their cities and towns. The Orkish tribes were forced to inhabit murky swamps or the freezing mountain caves. Let us reflect upon one Ork family in particular, whose story will clarify matters of Orkish history:
“For now, we will delve into the tale of one family of Orks that were slightly smarter, slightly stronger, and much more perceptive of the world around them. They had no name, they simply had similar traits and characteristics.
This unique family of Orks dwelled deep within a section of one of the most intricate and complex cave networks running throughout the Western Mountain Ridge. Here they caught fish in the dark with their bare hands and quenched their thirst on the blood from the numerous bats who were native inhabitants of the cave systems. Throughout the years, the family lived alone in solitude--their numbers reaching no larger than a few dozen Orks.
On a particularly cold winter year, the family of Orks wandered further into the cave system in search of a warmer section: many volcanic flows vented steam near the bottom of the caves and certain parts were much warmer than others. The Orks wandered and wandered aimlessly in the dark (their vision allowed them to see somewhat of what lay before them). Scraping along the walls with their fists, one of the Orks screamed out, "Arraggghhhhhha!", as his leathery knuckles seared across a fiery hot, iron vault door. In the middle of a large cavernous section, in front of the Orks lay a huge, simmering, orange glowing vault door. Blood seemed to be leaking out from the corners and hinges of the door. The air in front and around the door shimmered with a dim glow, and a constant wave of heat cooked the air in the near vicinity. Sweat began to form on the brows of the Orks: they scratched their heads and looked around. The one Ork who had burnt his hand was kneeling next to an old stalagmite, licking his wound.
The Orks sat in front of the vault and since it was generating a good amount of heat, they hunkered down and began to fall into a deep slumber.
"RasagghhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHH!" A noise echoed throughout the caves, bellowing outwards from the vault door. The growl was deep: deeper and more menacing than any other creature or monster the Orks had ever encountered. The leathery skin on the backs of each and every Ork in the cavern stretched tight across their bony spines, their hands turned colder than they previously were and their eyes widened with alarm.
The vault door began to slowly open, and a wave of dark, nearly coagulated blood seeped forward and spread outwards along the cold stony ground like an ancient hand reaching outwards to devour any souls that wandered too close. Fortunately for the Orks, the blood did not devour their "souls". One brave Ork stood up and actually stepped forward into the growing stream of blood and ventured forth into the vault chamber.
As the Ork entered, a radiant wave of light ushered forth from a throne sitting in the center of a pool of molten lava. On the throne sat a figure glowing with a red energy, his face—or, for visual matters, anything about him could not be ascertained. The light and heat was too nauseating for the Ork to bear: he fell to his knees, captivated by the glow from the majestic creature that sat before him.
"Youuuu entERRR HIS preseennce?" the creature questioned, with a hissing, steamy voice.
The Ork, weak from the heat, and blinded by the radiance of waving lights managed to open his parched jaws and usher forth a whisper: "...me iz juzt an urukkk......" His voiced trailed off and his eyes closed for a moment.
"A brrAVVEE ORK, he seesssss" replied the creature in a solemn, yet amused voice. "Youuu Could BE of SERVICccE tooo HIM, YesssssssS, you coullld."
"..huw kan me serv lat bezt?" questioned the Ork.
"Carry forthhhhh HISss nammmme from thessseee wretched depthssss. Usssher forth Hissss presssenccce amongssst the land where the ssssunlight ssstill touchessss." The creature paused for a moment, and a bit of steam escaped from his mouth. "Ssserve HimM, and you and your kinnnnn ssssshall be rewarded. They ssshall be blesssssed by HIM throughout the agessss."
The Ork nodded and waited.
"Come forthhhhh." The creature beckoned. The creature then waved its hand and a bridge of stone rumbled upwards from beneath the molten lava pit.
The Ork crawled forward over the searing hot rocks, his flesh burning all-the-while. He reached the feet of the creature, panting and exhausted with pain. The Ork looked up at the creature.
The creature looked down, and took his two forefingers and shaped them into a sign. He pressed them against the left side of the Ork’s chest and branded the Ork with a raw, fresh scar.
The Ork did not scream, for he was already on the verge of collapse. The Ork, his head now resting on the heated rocks beneath the throne, asked: "whut is......'hiz' nayme, whu iz 'he'?....."
The creature laughed a deep and evil laugh, heating the air around him more and more. "I am HE, and HE issss the Blood God! Now, GOOOOOO forth from thisss placcceee. Remember what I have told youuu!"
And with that, the creature whipped his hand forward and a blast of heat flung the doll-like body of the Ork out of the vault chamber. The vault doors creaked shut again, and the immense wave of heat died down.”
Now, it has come to be common knowledge that this particular Ork was presented with more wisdom and courage than any of the other Orks. He knew what he must do. Under the command of the Blood God, the Ork spread his knowledge amongst his family. Together they began learning how to utilize tools. They crafted bows from the small saplings which grew on the southern face of the range. Shafts were carved with stone daggers from the bones of fish caught in the cave streams. Granite arrowheads were bound to the bone-shafts with fish-guts. They practiced and became excellent archers. The more brutish Orks fashioned longer spears out of the hardened Obsidian from the volcanic flows within the depths of the mountain. After the Orks had become expert archers and spearmen, under the leadership of the branded Ork, they climbed down from their mountain dwellings and took over any other Orkish tribe they encountered along the way. Slowly they assimilated other Ork families into their own, training them and spreading their wealth of knowledge amongst the Orkish race. As the Blood God’s Orks grew more and more powerful, they pushed further towards the southern edge of the tall Yew forests. Here, a small settlement of humans remained in control—but not for long. The settlers were overwhelmed by the Horde of unique Orks that they had never before encountered. The humans were bewildered. Previously, when a man happened upon an Ork—it would run and hide like a frightened kitten. Now, the Orks were guile, deadly creatures to be reckoned with. A fort was constructed in a clearing near the mountain’s Northern foothills—where the beginnings of the Bloodclan Orks took hold.
Darkfall Transition Edit
For millennia, the shards of Sosaria remained stable as they journeyed aimlessly through the dismal void of the universe. The fact that this was happening was a notion far too complex for the average minds of Sosaria’s human or Ork inhabitants. The few astronomers living had found several other shards of Sosaria drifting along in the stars above with their powerful observatory lenses. However, something more sinister was unfolding that they could never have predicted. The immense power of the Gem of Immortality stemmed from its perfect shape. No other Gem had ever been cut so flawlessly. The shards of Sosaria drew their power from each other. Unfortunately, each year they grew weaker and weaker as they spread out. The scary reality—Sosaria was dying. The Blood God, being a powerful deity, was able to gaze past the fog of the atmosphere and witness shards all around him slowly dimming until their faint light disappeared altogether like candles burning themselves to the end of the wick. The Blood God knew that it wouldn’t be much longer until his own shard dimmed to the point where it could no longer support life. All the while, the Blood God knew he could not frighten his Bloodclan Orks with this grim news. He spent countless hours planning on how he would breathe renewed life into his dynasty. The Orks continued to do his bidding—ignorant of the fate that might possibly swallow them whole. Eventually through his many experiments, the Blood God stumbled upon the mechanics of the fabric of space itself. The Blood God figured if he could channel enough soul-energy into a single point in space—it would tear open for an instant. Upon his first successful tear in the fabric of space, the Blood God peered through. What he saw shocked and confused him. It was difficult for even his demi-god consciousness to understand. Swirling black clouds whipped around like rogue vortexes. Blistering-hot neon orbs streaked haphazardly around and through the vortexes. Each orb was surrounded by trillions of tiny bright orbiting specks. The tear shut before he could see anything else. He needed more time. The more souls that the Blood God could feed the tear, the longer and wider it would gape open. The Blood God sent the Orks on a campaign to collect for him as many souls as they could.
As the months went by, the Blood God gathered enough souls to tear open the fabric again for a few moments. He stared as hard as he could at the orbiting specks and with diabolically acute vision, he saw that each speck contained another billion or so swirling swaths of stars. The magnitude of what he witnessed was too great. The Blood God had an intricate understanding of how the Universe worked. He knew that the Universe contained billions of galaxies. He knew that galaxies contained trillions of stars—each surrounded by planets. Seeing this changed everything. Ripping a hole in the fabric of space allowed him to view another dimension—the dimension where Universes interact with each other. He had no idea what all was going on, but from the information he could gather, each orbiting speck was an entirely separate Universe. The Blood God saw that each speck gleamed a different color, and so did the Orbs. He assumed that there must be some sort of pattern of the mixing colors. Why would certain specks only gravitate towards certain colored Orbs? The answer to that question may never be answered. He focused his vision on a brownish-red speck and waited a moment to let his eyes adjust. He sifted through the numerous galaxies, sensing for intelligent life and a habitable world. His searching ended as he discovered a cerulean–hued lenticular galaxy—lengthy and somewhat scattered. Solar systems and stellar birth-nebulas streaked across his view as he zoomed in further to a particularly intriguing system. The intriguing bit was the world which orbited within—Agon. The Blood God witnessed many civilizations flourishing and also sensed something even more mysterious—a powerful force emanating from its core. This would be his new home. This would be the Bloodclan Orks new home. Here, the Bloodgod could harvest an unfathomable amount of souls to do his bidding.
Discovering this world was a challenge. Getting there with all of his Orks would be nearly impossible. Nearly, however, is the keyword, for the Blood God had an unparalleled understanding of how the consciousness and the soul worked. The Blood God knew he could not transport physical matter through dimensions, and he certainly did not have enough energy to power such a transport. The only way to make the journey would be by transporting the souls and consciousness of himself and all his Orks. The Blood God would be required to leave his old form behind and inhabit a new one—leaving him weak for the beginning days. The Bloodclan Orks would also leave their old bodies behind—each would take on the form of Ork creatures already existing on the planet.
The Orks would not comprehend even if he tried to explain to them what his plan was. Therefore, he decided to provide them with a cover story as always—he needed more souls than ever, and without asking, as always—the Orks gathered them. Days dragged on like anchors scraping along the bottom of the sea, and yet steadily, his stockpile of souls grew to the perfect amount. When the time came, the Blood God gathered the Orks and told them to enjoy the night—for when the Moon rose to its highest point in the sky, they would fall into a deep slumber. He let them know: they would awaken confused, and he warned them not to be frightened; When they looked down at their hands, they would be unfamiliar—but in time, they would grow to know them, well, like the back of their hand; When they took their first steps, they would be stepping upon foreign land—land that would soon be theirs; He assured them that he would be with them to guide them, and they accepted this without question.
The Orks celebrated and danced into the night, casting shadows wildly across the land as their bonfires roared with bestial vigor. Soon enough, though, the Blood God waved his hand over the land and the Orks collapsed gently into a coma. He then formed his hand into a fist and drew every last soul and respective consciousness from their limp Orkish bodies. With his armada in hand, the Blood God gazed up at the Moon—which rose to its acme. The Blood God channeled the soul-energy once more into the tear and allowed it to form a nearly microscopic tunnel from that point through to the inter-dimensional realm, then to the brownish-red speck, then to the cerulean-hued lenticular galaxy, then to the solar system and finally to the world of Agon. The tunnel need naught be large—for it only needed to transport consciousness and souls—things which occupied no physical space at all. The Blood God took the last breath of air he would breathe on Sosaria, and then, in a flash of brilliant crimson-light, he disappeared into the space-tear, leaving behind nothing but shadows.
That night, Yew was as silent as it had ever been in several millennia. The trees stood still—watching over the last dying embers of the Orkish bonfires. The dimly lit bodies of hundreds of Orks littered the valley. Not a snore or even a hint of breathing could be heard. Inside the Ork fort, the spears and bows lined the weapon-racks—destined to never feel the dry grip of Orkish hands again. The ageless mountains in Yew would watch over the Orks of the valley no more. As the night whispered on towards daybreak, the last embers dissolved to ashes. At that very moment, a fresh dawn in the world of Agon would be welcoming the rebirth of an old dynasty—The Bloodclan Orks.